


Aching for You

by TheBrandenRose



Series: The Chains We Carry [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fantasizing, Lots and lots of Pining, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Pining, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:22:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBrandenRose/pseuds/TheBrandenRose
Summary: It wasn't the first night he'd dreamt of her. Ever since the Deep Roads expedition, Anders's respect for Hawke had evolved into a deep obsession that even Justice's iron fist couldn't squash. Abomination or no, he was still a man, and harbored desires like any other. There was only so much he could do to quench those desires, but it was better than snuffing out the one bright light in Kirkwall by involving himself with her. Based on Anders's in-game dialogue: "For three years I've lain awake at night, aching for you."
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke
Series: The Chains We Carry [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914760
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	Aching for You

It wasn’t like Hawke to pay him a night time visit. Not without need, of course. He was cleaning his clinic after the day’s influx of patients when he glanced over his shoulder and saw her a few feet behind him, still as a shadow. 

“Hawke, I-”

His mouth and eyes grew wide as he turned to see her fully. She was completely naked, her finery lying at her feet, looking at him with both determination and desperation. He wanted to say something, but couldn’t; the longer he gazed at her the less his mind wanted to cooperate. Her skin was rustic brown, the color of cinnamon. Curtains of auburn hair cascaded down the length of her back, tamed into a low ponytail. As she sauntered towards him he could smell the jasmine and vanilla perfume she always wore, tantalizing and dizzying.

“If the Templars are coming for you,” she said, “it won’t be without showing you how I feel first.”

If he had any words to say, they’d been wholly dissolved as she cupped his face in her hands, pressing her lips into his. He melted into her kiss, losing himself in her jasmine and vanilla scent, feeling himself grow hard. It was almost an instant response; how many times had her perfume made him stiff? Probably more than he could recall, and in less convenient circumstances than this. 

Anders pulled her closer to him, though it didn’t feel close enough, their kisses quickly growing more ravenous. He groaned softly as he traced the length of her back, then gently cupped her ass. Maker, but she was soft. It’d been like torture, aching for her from afar. He’d been so certain she didn’t share his feelings. He was glad of her method to prove him wrong.

She pulled back from him briefly to brush her lips against his ear.

“I want you, Anders,” she whispered, her breath tickling his earlobe. Warmth and adrenaline instantly flooded his body.

He pulled back to look at her, eyes like a clear pond gazing at him with desire. He caressed her cheek, watching her tilt her head, leaning into his hand. 

And then he woke up.

Anders’s eyes fluttered open, greeted by the dusty ceiling of his room. He was lying on a narrow cot that was shoved into a room no bigger than a broom closet in the back of his clinic. The night was cold and harbored a storm, the wind a constant howl that broke the incessant pounding of rain. Nights like this made him appreciate Darktown only a fraction more. At least he had a roof over his head, even if it was in the foul-smelling bowels of Kirkwall. Many Ferelden refugees couldn’t say the same.

He lied still, eyes glued to the ceiling. This wasn’t the first night he’d dreamt of her. It’d been this way for the past year, just after their expedition in the Deep Roads. He was surprised that he could still have feelings for someone. Since he merged with Justice, it felt like his former life had been stripped away, leaving him feeling unworthy and hesitant towards simple pleasures. He’d thought his desires had died along with the old Anders that couldn’t give two bits about what anybody thought of him. 

And then she’d plopped into his life, shaking the rocky foundation he’d built since Justice, putting everything besides freedom for mages aside. It was as if blinders had been ripped away and exposed him to all the things he couldn’t see before. Really, it all started with Karl, but the Templars had ripped him away from Anders like so many other things in his life. And now here was Hawke, baiting his trust that would most likely be broken. How long would it be before the Templars took her away too, all because she’d been seen with him? He wouldn’t be able to control Justice if that happened. He didn’t think he’d want to.

Shaking his head, he cleared the thought from his mind. As long as he breathed, he’d make sure the Templars would never lay a hand on her or him. Or at least die trying.

He tried conjuring the image of her as she’d been in his dream, before he’d awoken, imagining the curve of her nose, the freckles splattered just underneath her eyes. What he wouldn’t give to hold her. If the dream had gone on longer, he would’ve enveloped her in his arms, fingers curling into her hair as he pressed his lips to hers. Maker, but he wanted her. Why did his dreams always end before getting to the good parts?

She is a distraction.

Justice’s voice was an anvil that pounded away his fantasy. Somewhere on the edge of Anders’s consciousness he could feel the searing heat of the spirit’s disapproval.

She leads you away from your purpose. 

I know, Anders replied coldly. The shadow of disappointment that lingered bellied Justice’s doubt.

He glanced down at the slight tent of his pants below his navel. He knew he should give this up. He knew that his obsession with her was getting in the way of his activism with Kirkwall’s mages. And following her on every task was eating away at precious time he should be spending with his patients. But it was such a rare, bittersweet pleasure. On one hand, he’d never felt this way about anyone since he merged with Justice, and enjoyed the fantasies it brought to mind. On the other, knowing that nothing would blossom between them other than longing from his side felt like a knife to his heart. As much as he longed for her, it was best not to get involved. He’d never heard of anyone having a successful relationship with an abomination. Considering his circumstance, love wasn’t a possibility.

Even so, a skyclad Hawke still danced in his mind, endlessly teasing.

“You’ve got it bad, Blondie,” Varric had said after he’d caught Anders gazing at Hawke for more than a few seconds. The dwarf was the only one who caught on, fortunately. As much as Varric liked to hear himself talk, he was remarkably good at keeping secrets.

And he was right, too. He was completely infatuated. Abomination or no, he was still a man. He still had desires, much to Justice’s chagrin. Tonight would be another night of slaking those desires, albeit temporarily. In the morning, he’d be palling around again with the constant reminder of what he can’t have.

At least she could be his in his fantasies. 

Reaching into his pants, he grabbed his still half-hard member and began stroking it slowly, imagining where his dream had left off. He had his usual fantasies. Sometimes he was on top, sometimes it was her. Sometimes she was bent over her desk in her estate, crying his name as he fucked her from behind. That one was his favorite. This time, after much feverish kissing and ass grabbing, he pulled her into his room where he lied down so she could straddle him, easing herself onto his cock. Her eyes fluttered closed, sucking in a shuddering breath as she took in all of him, and began moving her hips in small circles. 

His hand moved in time with fantasy Hawke’s rhythm. He imagined his hands exploring every curve, starting from her shoulders and making their way to her hips. He imagined the softness of her breasts, plump and weighted in his hands. She sighed as he tugged one of her nipples, head thrown back in ecstasy. If she was real, he knew he’d be drowning in the sharp scent of sandalwood that she always carried. It would be dizzying, yet tantalizing.

Fantasy Hawke bent to kiss him, moaning into his mouth as she continued to buck her hips. Anders bit his lip, imagining what that would feel like, to be enveloped in her scent and taste. He imagined the mildewy sweetness of her tongue against his, taking in her flavor, all the while the tightness of her cunt gripping him like a vise. The thought made him groan.

He bucked more vigorously into his hand. The need for her was like a pot boiling over. He imagined himself gripping her waist, pressing his fingers gently into her sides, guiding her into a faster pace. She abided, her rhythm quickening, stabilizing herself with both hands on his stomach. She arched her back, moaning his name.

“Anders… Anders...”

Pressure was building at the base of his spine, pushing him to the edge of orgasm. 

“Anders?”

He froze, dumbfounded. No, that couldn’t have been her. He must’ve been hearing things in the wind.

“Hello? Anders?”

He sat up and hastily threw a tunic over himself. Andraste’s flaming ass, it was her.

He opened the door from his room to find Hawke standing in the middle of his clinic, windswept and drenched; water pooled around her boots from her soaking clothes and her hair stuck to her face in moist clumps. She cradled her elbow, her face painted with gashes oozing blood. The sight of her made his blood turn cold. Any embarrassment he had about the slight bulge in his pants was tossed out the proverbial window. 

“Maker’s breath, Hawke,what happened to you?”

She flashed him a weak smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said, as if that was his main concern. “I just, uh… well, I need help.”

Anders shook his head. Help was a bit of an understatement.

“I would ask,” he said, “but with you, I don’t think I want to know.”

“It was nothing illegal, if that’s your concern,” she stated quickly. “Just a bunch of street thugs. They, uh… they won.”

Anders raised an eyebrow. “I can see that. You couldn’t let Aveline’s guards take care of them?”

“You know she wouldn’t risk her men to take down a few bandits. Besides, there’s good coin in it. You can’t pass up an opportunity like that.”

“Or, you can stay the hell inside on a night like this. You know, like sane people do?”

Hawke flashed him a mischievous grin. “Really, Anders. Have you known me to be a sane person?”

A ghost of a smirk crossed his face. “No, unfortunately. Sit down and let me have a look at you.”

She obliged and sat on a nearby cot. He bent over her, giving her a lookover. Fortunately her injuries looked worse than they were, the most prominent being a gash that ran from her left eye down to the corner of her mouth. He looked down at the arm she was nursing.

“Can you move it?” he asked.

“Not without it hurting like a son of a bitch,” she said, wincing as he reached out and pressed his fingers lightly into her arm.

“Good. It’s just a sprain, then. Give me a moment, I won’t be long.”  
He went in the back to gather what he needed, which wasn’t much. At most, he’d need a few bandages; his magic could do the rest. He soaked his hands in the basin nearby before gathering said bandages and a towel to throw over Hawke to help her dry off. Maker knows, she looked like she’d come back from a midnight swim.

“Here,” he said, tossing her the towel as he returned to her side. “Before you catch a cold.”

“My, I’m getting the special treatment today,” she said, folding the towel around herself. “I’m honored.”

“Well, you are a royal pain in the neck now, instead of just a regular one.”

She laughed. “True enough.”

He set the bandages next to her and offered her a strip of cloth. “I’d suggest biting into this,” he said. “This isn’t going to feel good.”

“Well, I can’t turn back now, can I?” she said, taking the cloth from him.

He pulled up a chair in front of her so as to get full view of her injuries. She hissed through gritted teeth as he rolled up the sleeve of her injured arm.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll need you to hold still. It’ll hurt less if you don’t move.”

Holding his hand just above the crook of her arm, he willed healing magic through his fingertips, tendrils of blue energy enveloping her elbow. He could see Hawke bite down hard into the cloth as the magic mended the tender muscle, eyes squeezed shut.

“Son of a fucking bitch,” she swore around the cloth lodged in her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, the only comfort he could offer. Having muscles race through the healing process was not a pleasurable ordeal.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to sit in discomfort for long. It only took him a few minutes before he felt he’d worked enough magic into her arm. When he stopped, she let her body slump, a sigh escaping her lips.

“Maker, let’s not ever do that again,” she said after removing the cloth from her mouth and tossing it aside.

“Teach you not to fight Kirkwall’s thugs alone.”

She threw him a playful look. 

“Oh, so you’re saying you’re to blame for this?” she said, flashing him the shit-eating grin she wore whenever she was in a teasing mood. “If you’d been there then maybe I’d have walked away less injured?”

“Or at least listened to a voice of reason,” he countered. “Anyway, the worst part’s done with. It’s still going to be tender, but it should be healed within a couple days.”

She threw up her good arm.

“My savior!” she exclaimed. “What would I do without you?”

Anders shrugged. “Bleed to death. Unable to hold a dagger properly again. End up in some charlatan’s clinic in Lowtown who doesn’t know how to stitch a cut closed.”

“So modest,” she said. “The worst part is, you’re probably right on all three accounts.”

Anders smirked. “Well, glad to know I’m appreciated.”

He began wiping away the blood on her face with a sterilized cloth, a task that made him extremely nervous. Being this close to her made his heart pound so hard he swore she could hear it. He pretended to be fully absorbed in his work, when really that was only half true. The other half of his attention was spent on drinking in her features - her stunning blue eyes, the way her auburn hair curled to frame her rustic brown cheeks. By now he was wholly convinced that she was the most breathtaking sight in Kirkwall, maybe even all of Thedas.

Tossing the bloody cloth aside, he willed his magic again to mend the gashes on her face, starting with the one running down her left cheek. He’d noticed that she hadn’t taken his eyes off him once, not that there wasn’t much else where her eyes could wander. Her gaze made him feel exposed, as if she knew all about what he’d been doing before she’d shown up. He thought briefly of the possibility of her finding out his infatuation over her, and felt a flush of embarrassment in his cheeks. Hopefully she didn’t notice.

“Has anyone ever told you you have beautiful eyes?”

Anders’s magic halted. Had they not been the only ones present, he would’ve believed she was speaking to someone else. 

“I… No?” he replied. “I don’t think anyone has.”

Was this a trick? Was she toying with him? Or did she really…

No, he told himself firmly. She’s a good friend, nothing more. She doesn’t need you to complicate her life further. Don’t even think of you and her together.

Even if he couldn’t feel him at this moment, he knew Justice could hear his thoughts and was smuggly approving of his self-chastising. Anders would have to remind him that he wasn’t doing it for him.

“Huh. That’s surprising,” she continued. “I would think that’d be the first thing anyone notices about you.”

Anders frowned. “Unfortunately the first thing anyone notices is that I can fling fireballs at will.”

“Ah. Well there is that. I can imagine that it makes a lasting impression.”

“You have no idea.”

She became silent and stared down at the small triangle of cot visible between her legs, brows knit together in thought. It was actually a pretty cute look on her. When she looked at him again her eyes didn’t hold the same playfulness as they usually do. Instead, it was replaced with worry, a rare expression for her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” she said, brows softening. “I just thought, with everything you’re doing to help Kirkwall, with all the tension between the Templars and mages… I thought that maybe you could use a kind word, is all.”

There was a pause between the two of them. In all his life, he’d never heard anything kinder than what she said to him. The fluttery, queasy feeling rose in his stomach again and he looked away.

“I… I-it’s just the right thing to do,” he stammered. He wished he had something more profound to say, but his thoughts were racing so fast his mind couldn’t latch onto a single word. Besides, he should be the one complimenting her, not the other way around. Praise shouldn’t be wasted on him.

She chuckled. “You don’t have to be so modest, you know. You can say ‘thank you’.”

“No, it’s not like that. I mean, I… I just….”

Pull yourself together you goddamn fool.

“Look, forget I said anything,” she said, waving her hands in front of her dismissively. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“No, don’t,” Anders said, more fiercely than he intended. He took a breath to compose himself before continuing. 

“It was just… unexpected, is all. I don’t really hear many kind words passed along in Kirkwall. Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it, though.”

The sight of Hawke’s broad smile at his words made his heart skip. 

“Well, good,” she said, lightly punching him on the shoulder. “Someone has to wipe that scowl off your face.”

He laughed, even though the truth in her words struck deep like a hammer.

Hawke stood up after he treated the last bit of her wounds, bending her wounded arm to test it. She didn’t wince once, fortunately.

“Well, I should get going, sadly. Don’t want to be dead on my feet when visiting the Viscount tomorrow morning.”

Anders raised his brows. “You have an appointment with the Viscount?”

“Oh, you know, nothing particularly interesting,” she said, shrugging. “Just some boring noble business. Then mother wants me to run a few errands. Riveting stuff.”

She rolled her eyes. He wished she would stop making all these cute faces in front of him. It was downright criminal.

“Well, don’t let me keep you, then,” he said

“I’ll try not to,” she replied with a wink.

As she turned to leave, a boldness he hadn’t felt before Justice took over him, as if it was what possessed him. It whispered sacrilege into his mind.

Do it, damn it, just tell her.

Before he could hold himself back, the name he whispered every night rushed past his lips.

“Hawke?” His heart was fluttering in his chest. He half-hoped she wouldn’t hear him, sparing him from his foolishness. 

To his dismay, she turned around. 

“Yes?” she said, her expression expectant and attentive.

He felt frozen, stuck at a crossroad and unable to make a choice. He wished this was easier. He wished his life wasn’t so complicated that he couldn’t love anyone without being intensely terrified. Some days, he wished he’d never been born a mage.

Don’t you dare.

The boldness that had taken over slinked back as Justice’s voice boomed in his mind like thunder, a jarring reminder of who he was and why he was unworthy of her. He was a twice-damned man, as both a Grey Warden and an abomination. Ugliness would follow their union until one or both of them were killed, either by Templars or other groups that hated his kind. The thought made his heart sink.

“What’s wrong?” Hawke said, raising an eyebrow. He cursed himself for letting her catch his dismay.

“Nothing,” he answered, feeling his cheeks flush again. 

Absolutely nothing is wrong, he said to himself, except for the fact that I’m wholly, inexplicably in love with you and it fills me with fear and excitement all at once.

“Just be safe, okay?” If she could hear his thoughts, it would be one long, drawn-out scream.

She flashed him her shit-eating grin from earlier before replying, “You first.”

As he watched her leave, he couldn’t help but imagine what would’ve happened if he’d confessed. Best case scenario, she would’ve laughed it off, maybe teased him a little bit. She might’ve even been mad at him. What would’ve been worse, what he’d feared, was that she’d admit she felt the same. And their relationship would’ve spiraled into heartbreak from there.

You could’ve ruined her life, you goddamn idiot, he told himself. You need to stay in control next time.

As Anders sank back down onto his cot, a heaviness blossomed in his chest. She was the one bright light in Kirkwall; knowing she’d be snuffed out if he dared grasp at her was like a weight that sank into the pit of his stomach. 

It’s for the best, he reminded himself. It’s the only way to keep her safe.

It was the only way he could protect his one source of happiness.

He closed his eyes, knowing that more than likely she’d haunt his dreams again once he fell asleep. It was the only night the thought was unwelcome.

**Author's Note:**

> Dragon Age has become my comfort game during quarantine, which has brought my love for Anders back with a vengence. (Pun was only half-intended.) This is my first smutty fic that I've written and published so I hope it's okay maybe??? Anyway, I hope whoever reads this enjoys it as much as I enjoyed writing these two.


End file.
